Challenge
by halbarath
Summary: It's a response to the Reality Bites challenge. It concerns Snape mostly. Oneshot. Just wanted to know if I could do it.


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter's world. It's JK Rowlings.

A/N: This is a response to Naomipoe's challenge. Here are the conditions of writing:

_Think you're really up for a challenge? Try this -- write a romance for dear Snapey-poo: _

_Banned: _

_1. Social Grace. Face it -- the boy was a Spinner's end half-breed cast off with greying undies. Pureblood Snapey-poo is passé. so ditch the stunning grace and the knowledge of what to do with an asparagus fork (and the beautiful accent. ) _

_2. Sex god-ness: Boy jeered the one girl who might have given him a chance, joined the DE's almost immediately, and spent the next twenty years cooped up in Hogwarts, running midnight corridors. Seriously...I doubt he even had time to visit Knockturn Alley, let alone have anyone consensually. And I don't buy the Dark Revel Idea either. JKR based the DEs roughly on the Nazis, and their high ups were held to monkish standards... sorry folks, this guy really is a 40+ year old virgin. At least for my challenge. _

_3. Riches. He's a teacher for kneazles' sake. Room, board and a wee tiny stipend. Trust me. I almost took a position like that. Plus he's probably spent his money on books and potions ingredients. _

_Required: _

_1. A wee bit o' humour. Feel free to mock anything or anyone. _

_2. A wee bit o' originality. If I have to hear about apprenticeships or drinking again... _

_3. A wee bit o' fluff. Happy endings not required, but certainly appreciated. _

_4. The phrase "reality bites." Somewhere, somehow. Bonus points for not making it a quote said by Snape or his love interests. _

_Bonus points: lines--_

_"Peanuts are for pansies" _

_"Ron is an unmitigated arse" _

_"But is it certified organic?" _

_"Your patronus is a bunny?" _

_"Prestidigitation" _

_"An army of snorkblasts couldn't stop me."_

_"But I like chocolate!" _

_"Who are you and what have you done with my hair?" _

**Challenge**

Silence fell in the Potion classroom as two ebony eyes narrowed and focused on something Lavender had tried to give surreptitiously to her classmate.

"Miss Parvati" the silky tones hummed, "kindly bring this over here."

Not fooled by the velvet around the threat, the young girl −trembling− placed a small book on the worn desk.

"Peanuts are for pansies," he read aloud, waving the pupil back to her chair. A smirk twisted his lips before they took on a disgusted pout as he flipped through the novel.

"Miss Brown, if I am to judge your liking of _this,"_ he held the book cover between two long fingers, "then you're stupider than possibly intelligible. If you were to put the same amount o time and attention to your studies, you might even be able to properly brew the potion written on the board. As it is," he said, moving towards the girls' bubbling cauldron, "I assume the putrid liquid simmering here is but a poor attempt at Potion making."

He flicked his wand over it, muttering an Evanesco and their work disappeared.

"50 points for wasting my time and not being careful," he said, blatantly ignoring the soft chuckle from the Slytherins.

"You may go," he added, looking at the mortified Gryffindors.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She was absent-mindedly eating her food, barely listening to Harry and Ron's rant about Snape. Of course, their house would have been better off with a 50-point bonus but her dorm mates had lost them. What's done is done. No need to grumble all lunch about it. Her mind wandered, its interests wavering between Ron and her teacher.

The first because she had hoped something from him that obviously wasn't going to happen soon.

The second because he represented a challenge. That man was a question mark on foot; whatever he did or said, who he was, what he thought, all was a mystery about him.

Her musing went on matching itself naturally to the rhythm of her chewing.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed, nursing the inside of her cheek.

"Reality bites, Hermione!" a smiling voice laughed.

"What?" she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"You were miles away," her green-eyed friend answered quietly. "Your biting your cheek brought you back to reality."

She smiled, trying to find solace in her friend's humour. He entertained her as them moved to their new lesson. Ron was trailing behind, all but lost in a heated discussion with a team-fellow about the next strategy to adopt for the upcoming Quidditch match.

She sighed; wishful thinking wouldn't help her.

"Ron is an unmitigated arse; he wouldn't recognise the obvious if it went straight to his face and kept smacking him on the head." He said in an effort to console her.

"My name's Hermione, Harry. Not obvious. Hermione." She said evenly, but unable to prevent her lips from quirking at the corners. He blinked at her before laughing.

"What? My favourite swot has become a joker? You could have warned me; I almost died of shock, you know."

"Now, now, Harry. I may want to put my hands around one or two throats and shook their owners until their teeth chatter but on you? Who would think so?"

"C'mon 'Mione, or you'll be late. And honestly, who would believe _that_?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What are you plotting?" Harry whispered to her while an irate McGonagall was explaining the difference between Transfiguration, prestidigitation and stupid questions to a wide –eyed seventh-year. Apparently, the joke hadn't been to their teacher's liking.

"Prestidigitation? It's outrageous! Transfiguration is much more than bluffing gullible people by hoisting a bunny out of a ridiculous hat!"

"Hey, Malfoy! Is it true your Patronus is a bunny?" Ron teased the blonde to the greatest pleasure of his house. The Slytherins on the other hand prepared itself to back the most influential amongst them.

"Yes, Mister Malfoy?" their teacher enquired as he opened his mouth to hurtle one or two insult to the red-haired boy.

"Actually, yes, Professor. I was wondering if Weasley could demonstrate."

Which he did. Eventually. And by which time, Hermione had told Harry about the Confusion Potion she had found. Discovery which led in turn to a wicked glow lightening her friend's eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh no, Harry," she drawled for the umpteenth time, shaking her head. He watched the curls dangling, amplifying her negative answer.

"Oh, come on! You just have to brew it and I'll do the rest! Please, please, please!" he said in mock plea, clasping his hands together, opening his eyes wide and making his lower lip tremble as if he were on the verge of crying. As it seemingly hadn't the desired effect on her, he changed tactics and grew serious again.

"Well, I thought you wanted to experiment. It really is a shame to leave such a difficult brew to waste. And the ingredients are quite expensive, I think."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She was grumbling over her cauldron in the Room of Requirement.

Why on earth did she agree on this?

Harry had stayed with her and hi nervous excitement irritated her to no end because it broke her concentration. And since it was the first time she tried to brew it, the Potion needed her full attention. As he once again pulled her out of her work and she looked up sharply to glare at him, what was bound to happen happened.

The potion hissed and spat, so fiercely and so high it reached her bent face. Some droplets went over and fell into the fire beneath the cauldron. Suddenly, all the hell broke loose; the cauldron exploded, knocking her backwards and the potion rained on her.

Harry was on his feet in a matter of seconds, casting Evanesco and Scourgify as quickly as he could before muttering an Aguamenti to wash his friend clean of any residue. The cold water seemed to revive her; she looked around, got up and looked at him strangely. She went a few feet away, to a far side of the room, to retrieve a glistening silvery object. She came up to him with what he recognised as a mirror in a hand and a small frown on her face.

"Who are you and what have you done with my hair?" she asked briskly, casting the mirror aside and showing the tangled mess her hair had become.

Calmly, he explained her what had happened, filing her up on who, what, where and when.

"Come, I'll bring you to Snape. We're in a big mess and we'll lose points but at least he'll know what to do."

"Who is he?" she asked quietly.

"Our nasty greasy and unfair Potion teacher. The Great Bat of the Dungeons. He's always looming or lurking in the shadows to startle the shit out of you."

"Language, please. Does he fly?"

"Pardon me?" he asked, taken aback by her strange question.

"You said he's a great bat. Does he fly?"

"No, he doesn't," he answered, stifling a laugh.

"Do you think he sleeps head down?"

"I don't think so, no." he chuckled. "Hush now, we might meet people and it wouldn't do if the most hard-working pupil of the last 2 decades started acting as Luna."

"What does he look like?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Tall, dark, brooding. Long black greasy hair, black eyes as cold as death, a nose as big as Cornwall on a map of England, harsh features, and black buttoned-up robes. A charming picture to be brief."

Her brow furrowed in concentration. There was something here; she could feel it. Something was lurking at the back on her mind, here but just out of reach. He had said something that had hit close to home. Something in his description and stirred a felling deep down in her gut. There was something familiar and strangely comforting.

They eventually reached a heavy wooden door on which Harry knocked. She realised suddenly that as much as she wanted to meet the man, she was oddly nervous about it.

"Mister Potter and Miss Granger. What do I owe the pleasure?" he asked silkily.

"It's Hermione, Sir. A potion went wrong."

"A Potion?" he drawled , a nasty light in his dark eyes. "I don't recall any incident in my class."

"It just happened, Sir. We were experimenting a Potion she had found in a book." He said, uneasiness creeping in his voice.

"20 points from both of you for experimenting when you shouldn't have."

"Do you fly?" she interrupted out of the blue.

He looked up at her from his desk and his yes narrowed. Harry winced.

"No, Miss Granger," he said pointedly.

"But you must!" she continued and Harry wondered what worse she was going to utter. "If you're a bat, you must know how to fly!"

He took a deep breath and briefly closed his eyes. _Sweet Merlin, help us. _

"2 weeks of detention, Miss Granger. For rudeness."

"Excuse me, Sir," Harry interjected, wanting to salvage some of his friend's reputation "but she doesn't know what she is saying; it was a Confusion Potion she was brewing."

"Is it so, really? And why would you brew it?" he asked in a soft tone belying his fury.

"It was just an experiment. You know how she is," he explained. "Sir."

"You are not allowed to brew such Potions. You'll serve detention as well, beginning now. Tell me what you did, what went wrong and when."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Mister Potter! Bring me the flowers I've asked you NOW! And hurry with your chopping. I've better things to do than nurse incompetent Gryffindors."

By the time he had them in hand and turned his head back to his cauldron, she had moved. He found himself face-to-face to his best −however infuriating− pupil. Her brown eyes were wide and in rapturous study of him. She was so close he could smell her and see the freckles on her little nose.

"Miss Granger, please sit over here," he said as calmly as he could and pointing to as stool near-by.

She looked from it to the leaves to the cauldron.

"What is it?" she asked innocently. "It smells nice."

"It's called bittergreen petals. It helps restore intelligence." He answered. Can nothing prevent her from asking questions?

"But, is it certified organic?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, it is. Now, sit over there." He sighed, slightly taken aback by the strange sight of the worse know-it-all he ever had the displeasure to meet in complete confusion. Miss Granger saying aberrations and acting oddly was indeed a very bizarre scene. Something suspiciously close to sympathy arose deep in his chest.

He returned to his potion, getting rapidly immersed in his beloved work again. Potter was listing his ingredients and the girl was −for once− silent. No waving hand, no whispering, no question. Nothing. Nothing? He looked up.

"Miss Granger! Put that down immediately!" he shouted.

She sulked like an angry child, frustration clearly visible on the features of her face, her nose wrinkled due to her little frown and her pouting lips.

"Na," she said stubbornly.

_Na? Since when did the girl refuse to obey a teacher? _

"Don't aggravate your case." He warned her, becoming rapidly out of patience. His evening had been partly spent by baby-sitting and he wasn't particularly over the moon about it. "Put it down, NOW!"

"But I like chocolate!" she whimpered.

He blinked. How could anyone mistake chocolate with the brown paste she was holding?

"Miss Granger. _This_ is _not_ chocolate. Put it down."

"But…"

"No but. It is not chocolate."

"Can I have some now?" she interrupted again a few minutes later. She looked up at him expectantly but her face fell when she saw his. "I've put it down" she whined.

"Miss Granger. Do I look like I have chocolate?"

"No. But I like your eyes." She dropped, leaving him bewildered.

"Drink this," he said rather briskly as he handed her a phial of the now cooled potion.

"Beuh, it's not chocolate!" she complained.

"No, it wasn't chocolate." He smirked. "Now go away. Potter!"

The young man appeared immediately.

"You may go. Don't forget to notify Miss Granger of her detention. Tomorrow, 7 P.M." he explained as he held the door opened for them to leave, which they did promptly.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh? Wait a minute!" she exclaimed suddenly as they walked back to their dormitories. She ran back the way they have come and knocked on the door which opened on angry and narrowed eyes.

"What−"

She flung herself at him, locking her arms around his neck and kissed him thoroughly.

"That's better than chocolate," she said, hiding a grin. _Sir_, she added mentally before leaving him confused to no end on the threshold of his lair.

"What did you do?" Harry asked her when she joined him again.

"Why, I thanked him of course," she smiled impishly.

_End. _


End file.
